Throughout each day, Karina moved from one task to the next until she was physically and mentally exhausted. She was used to feeling tired all the time and fortified herself with coffee many times a day. Accustomed now to skipping midday meals while she was working outside, she loaded up with a big breakfast as the others did. The only time of day she was alone was in her theater bedroom, during those short windows between falling asleep and waking up. She knew she would soon share her room with others—as everyone else in the house did except Micah—when new residents were invited to join. Still, she loved being part of this community, of feeling as if she belonged. There was always someone to share meals with, to work alongside, to speak openly with. She had nearly forgotten what that sense of closeness was like, with her family Before.

Karina called her parents every weekend while she took a long walk around the grounds. She always had some “facts” about the past week to share: test scores in chemistry, the paper she was writing on Hamlet, the new jicama slaw in the cafeteria. She didn’t feel she was being untruthful, just reflecting the life they wanted for her, as she had always done. In high school, she hadn’t told them she found relief in the tiny slices and punctures on her inner thighs. To keep the peace between her parents, Karina had also learned to keep their secrets from each other. Her real life, her real heart and experience, bore little resemblance to the persona she created for them. This dissonance, Karina told herself, was the price of living the life she chose.

* * *

“Karina,” Micah called from outside one evening. “Come out here, you’ve got to see this.” She went to join him on the back patio. It was late evening, but the glow outside was brighter than usual. Up in the dark sky, the moon was whole and seemed to be right upon them, its striations visible. Half the night seemed lit from its incandescence.

“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Full moon,” Micah said. “We should do something to commemorate it.” He looked around, his eyes panning the horizon and the grounds. “Come on, let’s swim,” he said, taking her by the elbow to lead her toward the pool.

August and Zoe had come out of the house to join them and were chiming in about the beauty of the moon. “Yeah, man. Let’s swim under the stars. Under the full moon.”

A cold fear flushed through Karina’s veins. She shook her head at Micah. “I don’t like swimming. You go ahead. I’ll sit here.” She wondered if she would even be able to watch. Nearly every morning in meditation, she found her mind returning to Prem’s accident, exploring her role and the shadow of guilt that came with it. The memory of Prem had almost become closer to her now than in years past, when she had deliberately blocked it out.